


Macaron kisses

by KryallaOrchid



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Identity Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 10:44:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KryallaOrchid/pseuds/KryallaOrchid
Summary: It’s always the little things people notice when they fall in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Made for the "Miraculous Ladybug Guess Who" Competition.

 

It was the little things which made hearts flutter. Tiny nuances a person cannot hide. Personality so ingrained it shines forth even under the most dire of situations. A breath, a laugh, a sigh of delight. A smile and a name. A sweetness of sugar and cookies upon a breath, a treat to be enjoyed together.

Love was the wind playing in his hair, it would tease and tantalize and toss about. Disheveled and still immaculate, blonde and bold and beautiful. Raindrops clung to its strands and made it sag against his face. Or how it plastered against his forehead with sweat as he clamored across the rooftops of Paris. She wished she could feel the silky locks beneath her fingers when she ran them across his head. She wished she dared caress the strands and bury her face so she could breathe in its scent.

It was the bounce of her pigtails as she ran. It was the way she petted her hair when nervous or twirled a tail around her fingers as she thought. How they kept their shape, he could only imagine. Streaming behind her, two sharp pinpricks of joy, dark as midnight, silken. Her hair smelled of peaches and love and it was soft, so soft.

Emerald green eyes, a deep forest shine, a well of compassion so deep and vast. They’d crinkle at the corner when he laughed, they’d pinch when he was angry, they’d droop when he tired. When they looked at her, they held the whole world of love, ready for her to stretch out hopeful fingers and claim it.

Bluebell and a sky so infinite he’d never return to the ground. He’d stay cradled in her gaze for an eternity and feel safe forever. The only other eyes which held him the way belonged to his mother and while his mother’s eyes had kept him safe, these bluebells kept him enthralled.

The swagger, tail spinning in his hand, the confidence as he sidled up to an akuma. His assertive stance as he stood with his staff over his shoulders and his hands flopped over to share a joke or a pun. The quiet, contemplative walk as he strolled, hands behind his back while talking and laughing. The way he could portray both sexy and innocence within one pose.

Those swishing hips. The long, toned legs. Her air of determination. The smirk on her face, shoulders thrown back in triumph. Or the curl of her shoulder, the hunch of her back, the insecurity in her face when things didn’t go to plan. Her fingers tapping together nervously, eyes down, stammering and stuttering before she caught herself and confidence returned.

The anger. Fury at the aches and the pain and the injustice. The growl, low and deep in his throat, protective arms extended to shield with no care for himself. He was new to anger, unsure how to handle it, having to control his emotions for so long, the outbursts always took him by surprise. But he was never wrong in his anger, it was always just and true.

She threw herself into danger without due care to protect everyone, even him. Righteous fury and stinging words, sometimes acting without fear of the consequence which would bring her to her knees later. Even when she was wrong, she was magnificent, because she took everything on board and made herself a better person because of it, because of him.

Love was his puns. Silliness and idiocy, laughter and fun. They’d drawn her in and made her safe even in the heat of battle. When they were corny, when they were clever, when they were so devilish they made her blush, she was grateful for all of them. They leaked into her life and now she didn’t know how she ever did without them.

Love was her creativity. The way she could always figure out what to do with her lucky charm in interesting and unique ways and he marveled at her. Or the quiet way creations she made while on her terrace, staring at the moonlight. He could watch her create forever and never be tired of it.

Love wasn’t without its flaws and it wasn’t blind.  She was prone to jumping to wild conclusions and fits of jealousy which forced her hand before she contemplated consequences. He second-guessed the steel he strapped to his spine to act meeker than he should against those he loved and there were times his kindness was taken for granted. Things were hard and arguments were had, but it was always about the growing from there, the journey onward which mattered.

It existed in the way he listened, hanging on to every word like he was a man dying of thirst and she was his oasis. It was the way he shared pieces of himself, his loves and hopes and dreams, and it was the words he didn’t say.

It echoed in the way she listened, taking into herself his suggestions and ideas, never dismissive, always improving. It was the way she offered up everything she was to him, shared with him everything she held dear, asking little in return.

A first laugh and a forever laugh. Tickling up from his belly to burst into the world and spread its grace upon her. The thunder roll of love and light and happiness. The belly-clutching joy of laughter as she told a pun, or the gentle tease when Tikki gave her a cardboard cut-out of himself to use as a charm.

A sweet giggle, hand covering her mouth and eyes shining with mirth. A twitter of nerves as she spoke to him. A full a laugh as she kicked his ass at Mecha Strike. She had so many and each was as wondrous and as refreshing as the last. He wanted to discover them all.

A smirk which stretched upon his face and into eternity. A smile which graced his lips, soft and tender, and made only for her. An angry snarl at an akuma who dared hurt her, or a friend who’d wrong her.

The cheesy grin she didn’t think he saw when he sat next to her at the movies. Or the shy smile that came with the offer of macarons. Or her broad prideful beam for them she had as she held up her fist for a bump at the end of a long, exhausting battle.

His kindness. A boost of confidence when she needed it most. An umbrella in the rain.

Her kindness. A helping hand to lift him up and keep him close. A scarf for a birthday and a signature hidden from sight.

Love was the tears shed, the white lies told, the compassionate hugs. It was a hard-fought peace, a lasting trust, a tenderness which transcended masks. It cradled in the darkened corners and lifted high into the shining light and smothered them both.

Love was kisses tasting of macarons and hot chocolate. It was kisses in secluded corners, hidden away from the eyes of Paris, snatches of lips and the brush of hands. It was pecks in greeting, it was a _faire la bise_ , it was a tasting of tongue and gentle grace which heated to a passion neither of them wanted to hide.

It was interlaced fingers and kisses on palms. It was a smile of joy and a smile of sadness. It was a soft breeze and a raging storm in one, a warm hand against a face and a fiery heat rising between them. It was a teasing of fingertips until hands splayed and intertwined. It was a gentle smile and a boisterous greeting. It was shoulders pressed together while a kaleidoscope of colors burst into the night sky above. It was a laugh that filled their hearts to the brim until it bubbled over.

It was a slow and ever-changing revelation as a relationship slipped from friendship into something more.

A whispering of words, spoken beneath the glistening moon. “I want to tell you who I am, but I think you already know.”

A shy return and a smile that spoke volumes, “I want to love you in the sunlight and I think you know that too.”

Sparkles of pink shimmered and she gave a shy smile, hopeful and unsure. A step taken with the hope of being met in the middle. “Hi.”

He squeezed her fingers, then lifted her hand to linger his lips against the back while his own transformation unwove, his eyes never leaving hers. “Hello.”

 

 


End file.
